My Monologue

I just wrote my monologue in raw honest prose and delivered without voice over yahoo and gmail. Just so sick of being put on a pedestal. I give away my strenghs without ration or fair price. They carve of the golden outer edges and reveal the raw soul swaying in passion’s pendulum. Sitting high enough still enough alone enough that worship turns into critique.

But you, you thought there was something about me you just had to figure out. You asked enough questions. I know I’m a mess, but I’m sensual intelligent and complex. They wrap their minds about attributes of excellence and turn a blind eye to blemishes and defects. I always give the best up front. But they don’t ration, all that is left is a valley of imperfections. An uphill climb for us to endure is too much of a bother just together so I can recollect assets. Its fractures and scars are baggage they won’t accept. I’m alone again and I learn to breathe again… to love myself… to regain faith. This time I gave him the dark, the ugly

I just want to start off when it’s high knowing the lows so that there’s no struggle uphill. You see the worst of me explicated in brutal humility… the best is all that’s left. If not you, I know I’ll find somebody looking to roll downhill side by side.